Paper Dolls
by Shelbecat
Summary: Ryan struggles with his decision to obtain proof of Daniel's paternity.


**Disclaimer: **Words, mine; characters, not a chance.  
**Rating: **M (for suggestion of sex)

**Paper Dolls**

The envelope arrived on a Friday in October. Unassuming and innocent. Seth swooped up the mail when it flew in under Ryan's dorm room door.

"Phone, cable, _L.L.Bean_…really, Ryan." Seth rifled through the stack, shaking his head. "_American Medical Services_?" He held up a plain white envelope. "What's this?"

_American Medical Services_. Ryan, stocking his mini-fridge with groceries, stilled, his hand gripping a carton of milk. He'd been trying to forget about _American Medical Services_, about the tiny piece of information contained in that simple envelope.

"It's, uh…" He shoved the milk into the fridge and stood up. "It's a DNA profile…for Bio." He was lying. A slick sweat broke out across his neck.

Seth flipped the envelope over in his hands, seemingly trying to read the contents inside.

Ryan hurried to explain it away. "Our Prof. wants us to see an actual DNA map. Study the intricacies, anomalies, you know."

"So, you could be discovering you have some rare genetic disease in first-year Bio?" Seth waved the envelope at Ryan.

Ryan's heart quickened, he wanted that envelope. Reaching for it, he added, "Yeah, stupid, huh?"

Ignoring Ryan's unspoken request, Seth pulled it back again, pondering the paper object. "Well why don't we open it? Give the old deoxyribonucleic acid a spin."

"No!" Ryan snapped. "I mean, the results have to be sealed. For class." His voice was softer now. "You know, so we can't change them," he added weakly.

"Yes, because that's all you have to do on a Saturday night: rearrange your alleles."

Letting a smile escape, Ryan sensed Seth relaxing. Reaching out quickly, he snapped the envelope from Seth's grasp. "They're nucleotides, and I'm not changing anything." He tossed the envelope on his desk. "Now, are we eating?"

As they left the room, Ryan stole another glance at the envelope resting on his desk. He'd open it on Sunday, after Seth left. It was no big deal, he knew what was inside, this was just proof.

/-/

_I saw Teresa again this week. Do you think…maybe…?_

Kirsten's insistence was deadly. Once she got an idea in her head, it was near impossible to change her mind. At least not until there was proof. Daniel was Teresa's little boy, her child with Eddie. She'd told him herself, and Teresa wouldn't lie. Not to him.

_He's not mine. Why is this so important to you?_

Ryan couldn't understand it. Kirsten had only mentioned it a couple of times, but each time she got this faraway look in her eyes. Like she was living in a world where it was real—where Daniel was his and, consequently, hers in a way. That didn't make sense to Ryan. He remembered well their support when he'd told him that Teresa was pregnant; that he was going to raise the child with her. It was hard to push aside unconditional love, especially when it attacked you with the force of Sandy and Kirsten Cohen. Still, it wasn't what any of them wanted, and yet it seemed like she wanted it to be true now.

_If you just knew for sure. She could have lied, to protect you._

When her tactics switched gears, he gave in just a little. Teresa always did have his best interests at heart. And she _had_ lied about miscarrying to make him go back to Newport. But would she really go this far? She had to know he could never forgive her for that.

_I'll call her, okay? Ask her again._

Peace, for a few weeks anyway.

/-/

By Sunday night, Ryan had completely forgotten about the envelope. Seth had managed to spend absolutely no time entertaining himself, in the 'not-at-all dirty way' as he put it, and, consequently, Ryan had a mountain of studying to do. It wasn't until he sat down at his desk that he saw the _American Medical Services_ logo peeking out from under _Introduction to Psychology_.

Right. The envelope. The test results. He could picture the contents—crisply folded stationary, informal typesetting, the simple phrase 'Ryan Atwood _is/is not_ the biological father of Daniel Diaz'. Or whatever passed for official lingo at the company.

He dropped his head to his hands, envelope pressed against his forehead. He had no clue how these things were supposed to work. Living up to your responsibilities—moving to Chino, being there for Teresa—those were things he understood. Those traits were inbred, the backbone of hard-working manual laborers, like he was born to be. Finding out you are the father of an almost two-year-old—that he didn't quite get.

Holding the envelope out in front of him, he tapped it quickly on the desk. It said _no_, _is not_, _absolutely no friggin' way_, whatever terminology passed for 'you were an idiot to even think it' at the _American Medical Services_ corporate offices. He was sure of it.

So then why couldn't he open it?

Frustrated, he plastered the envelope to his bulletin board, jabbing a push pin in the corner. He just had to let it marinate for a while, get used to the idea of finding out for sure, one way or the other. Then he'd open it, read that Daniel really was Eddie's, and get on with his life.

He grabbed his Psych book and flopped down on his bed. Studying at his desk was out of the question.

/-/

It had taken him weeks to build up the nerve to call Teresa. Finally, he'd ended up driving down to Chino in late October, surprising her at her mother's.

_Ryan! What are you doing here?_

To say she didn't take his request well was an understatement. She was alternately defensive, angry and placating.

_Of course he's not yours; I told you!_

_Why do you have to be the hero every god damned time?_

_I know, closure. I get it._

He'd left without an answer, her insistence that it _really_ wasn't necessary was supposed to be enough. He only made it a few blocks before he realized that it wasn't and turned around. She was leaving for work. He watched her pull away in her tired, yellow car. Then he walked into her house and made apologies to her mother for not bringing his cell phone. Could he just make a quick call back home? She loved Ryan, always had. As soon as she turned her back, he slipped into Daniel's bedroom and snatched a handful of hair from a baby brush. He watched C.S.I., he knew this was enough to do a paternity test.

A day later and the hair was in the mail, along with a sample of his own identical blond locks.

/-/

Kirsten cooked a huge meal for Thanksgiving. Ryan came home, Seth was there of course, even The Nana made it out from Miami. The day was flawless, full of good food and good company. After dinner, cleaning up in the kitchen with Kirsten, Ryan had a moment of 'I really miss this' before Daniel's debatable paternity came up again.

"So, Seth tells me you had a DNA test?" Kirsten paused, placing a crystal water glass tenderly on the counter. "For biology, right?"

Ryan closed his eyes, cocked his head a little to the side. Of course she saw right through him; he never was any good at keeping secrets from her. And to expect Seth to keep his 'schoolwork' a secret was suicidal. He'd been fighting a somewhat successful battle to ignore the DNA results. So far, the still unopened envelope had made its way from the bulletin board, to the flap of Ryan's Math binder, to the bottom of his backpack where it now permanently resided. Every day he thought about it resting there, every time he selected a new book he felt it calling up to him, but he pushed it back. He wasn't ready to know yet, didn't know how he'd act if he did. Until he got his emotions locked up tight, he wasn't throwing dynamite on the situation.

"Knowing doesn't hurt anything." Kirsten's fingers pressed lightly on his arm, a sensitive mask on the words drilling violently into his brain.

He shrugged away, hands dripping bubbles across the floor. "Just leave it." He thought it clear that his voice was a warning.

"Ryan…" Begging, pleading.

"I'm outta here." Whirling, he stalked into the den.

Seth saw him enter, reached up with PlayStation controller in hand and waggled it at him. "Come on, man, a little _Grand Theft Auto_; just like old times."

Ryan ignored him, whipping his backpack over his shoulder. Kirsten followed him down the hallway, a confused Seth lamenting from behind, "Was it something I said?"

"Ryan, just stop for a minute. Think about what this could mean."

His hand was on the doorknob, freedom just a simple turn away. She didn't get it, no one could; it wasn't just about finding out, one way or the other—it was about mistakes, and responsibilities. About trying to do the right thing and failing even though he swore he'd never give up. Creating a child, a fatherless child, was something Ryan never thought he'd do; he'd have a family someday and he'd be there for them, through thick and thin. Now he had to accept that maybe he already had one, and they didn't want him at all.

Kirsten was still reasoning with him. "We'll handle it together. Whatever."

Ryan squared his shoulders, lifted his hand off the knob slowly, then with a quick jerk, slammed it down and twisted. He was gone.

/-/

Her voice had a way of charming him—like a poisonous cobra curling into submission, in her presence he was harmless. When he went to her motel room, a part of him hoped she wouldn't be there. He knew what would happen, what always happened. His eyes drank her in as she peered past the door. A light sheen covered her face, stray hair licking at her neck. She was gorgeous, willing, and just what he needed to lose himself. One kiss and they were back in high school, sneaking a quickie behind _The Bubbly Wubbly Laundromat _down on 10th and Main.

Ryan was on top—she liked it that way, or at least, she never once complained. His arms rippled with the strain of holding his weight; back and forth, pushing, pulling, pounding. He closed his eyes to her moans, soft escapes of escalating pleasure. The sound drove him higher, harder, faster. He had to do this, had to push through and find himself in her. She was always perfect for him—this girl, this sanctuary. With her he was 'Ryan Attwood, kid with no problems'. The safe haven from a tormented childhood, tonight she released him from all worry.

When she came, it was with a high shriek and sharp bite on his shoulder. His belly flipped, bile rushing upwards. Biting his lip, swallowing hard, he pushed everything down inside and blinked through the tears clouding his eyes. This was good, this was right. She loved him; he'd always loved her. They weren't using each other for sex. This was them, Teresa and Ryan—_together 4eva_; just like the etching behind _The Bubbly Wubbly_ would proclaim until eternity.

/-/

Standing on her porch, he hesitated before knocking. The envelope was clutched in his fist, the paternity results still safely sealed inside. He couldn't be a father; he didn't _feel_ like a father. Fathers were supposed to have steady jobs and bring home the proverbial bacon. Not that Ryan had experienced that childhood, but he knew what a kid deserved, and it wasn't a first year University student living off the kindness of others. To step in now and take over wasn't fair to her or Daniel. Teresa had this worked out, maybe Eddie really had made it to Foreman, sent checks every week. Hell, maybe Eddie was shacked up with her and her mother by now. Ryan was not part of this life; he didn't belong.

Boots slapping on the stairs, he rushed back to his car. He was almost there, almost made a clean getaway, when a car pulled up behind him. He glanced up, a deer caught in Teresa's headlights.

"Ryan?" Her voice betrayed the smile he couldn't see on her face.

He shuffled his feet. Just give her the envelope and leave, it's up to her. He tried to psych himself up as she approached, the knot in his stomach drawing tighter with every step.

"Hey," he fumbled with a smile. "I just…" Shrugging, he avoided her eyes. "How you been?"

Her words were drawn out. "I've been fine. Why are you here? Did something happen?"

Closing his eyes, he lowered his head. Did something happen? Yes, something happened. Something happened over two years ago. Something happened and I did the wrong thing. I listened to you. I left.

"I wanted to give you this." He thrust the envelope at her. "It's…just take it."

"What is it?" She flipped it over in her hands, examining the return address.

He could barely explain what he'd done, how he'd ignored her request to leave things as they were. "It's a DNA test. The results. I just had to know, so I tried to find out. But I didn't open it. I won't do that to you. So you just…" he gestured at her hand. "Just open it, or burn it, whatever. It's up to you."

"Is it?" Her words splashed like acid on his skin.

Nodding, he worked his jaw tightly.

Again she stared at the envelope. And again she shook her head in disbelief. "So, what? You took him to a doctor or something? Was my Mom in on this?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I just needed a little sample; it's a simple DNA test." This wasn't working. There was no explanation to justify what he'd done.

"Ryan, he's our son! You can't just come in here and take his blood or saliva, or whatever…"

"I took his hair. Just a little bit, from his brush. You wouldn't notice…" He stopped, staring at her, panting. Did she say 'our'? Ryan shook his head. "No."

Teresa nodded, wide eyes encircling his shaking body, welcoming him into her private world. With agonizing slowness, she turned the envelope over and worked her finger under the flap. The paper ripped, once, twice, three times down the narrow edge. Then the sheet inside was free, ready to share its proclamation with the world.

She held it out to him, face blank. "Take it," was her simple command.

He shook his head, backed away a few steps. "No."

Teresa closed the gap between them, reaching for his hand. Her expression softened, silently pleading with him to obey. Gently, her fingers encircled his wrist, tugging their bodies together. The paper was in his hand now; she pressed it against his palm.

"I don't need to read this Ryan; you do."

He dropped his eyes to the paper and read.

/-/

The house was quiet when he crept in just after midnight. He was staying in the pool house for the weekend and could have easily avoided the main house altogether. Instead, he listened for the sound of Kirsten waiting up for him, nodding when he heard the TV click off in the den.

She met him in the doorway, a soft smile on her face.

The words were right there, all he had to do was speak, instead he stumbled, coughed, bowed his head.

She guided him into her arms. "It's okay," she said softly.

Ryan closed his eyes, felt her strength seep into his core. "Thank you," he whispered.

She pulled back, caught his eye, silently questioning him.

Nodding, he let a small smile grace his features. "You were right."

_/fin/_


End file.
